


The silence comes on little cat feet.

by wargoddess



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Cat, Fade to Black, Implied Anal Sex, Implied handjob, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris, and Anders, and a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The silence comes on little cat feet.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cypheroftyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypheroftyr/gifts).



> Fenders fluff for CypherofTyr.

It's long after Kirkwall, and long after the war, and long after Hawke is gone. That's the only reason it's even possible.

It was an unspoken thing that they became the last two of Hawke's companions to leave him. The old lover and the next-older lover; the one who abandoned and the one who betrayed. (The unspoken part is the commonality: _old love_.) But then Hawke vanished, leaving only those unspoken things and a fresh sense of loss to stitch them together. They're loose stitches. Coarse. Better than grieving separately, though.

So now they are in Seheron, where it is very dangerous to be a mage but less so than in the lands of the Divine, and perilously near Tevinter where it is very dangerous to be an ex-slave but less so than if they'd actually crossed the border. They've found an abandoned farm near the coast -- likely to be overrun if there's another Tevinter invasion, which is probably what happened to the farm's former occupants -- and it is an unspoken thing that they settle here and start refurbishing it for the coming winter. Fenris chops the wood, except when Anders does it instead. Anders does the cooking, except when Fenris does it instead. They live off the land, except when they go into town and buy what they need in the _basrathari_ quarter of Alam, where non-Qunari are tolerated so long as they are respectful. Hawke left them with plenty of money, at least.

They don't talk much. It's how they get along. When they do exchange words, the conversations are simple things: a discussion of whether it's wise to try and plant something so close to autumn. A question about whether Anders is willing to use magic to start the fire, which Anders answers by lighting it. A nervous call when a stranger carrying slaver gear slows her horse, looking speculatively at Anders where he crouches in the garden, until Fenris steps out onto the porch and glares at her in silence, whereupon she stops speculating and quickly moves on.

(Anders doesn't thank him for this. Either of them would do it for the other. Some things don't need to be said.)

They don't speak much even when the wind turns cold off the coastal waters, and at night they must huddle together under every blanket and fur in the house to stay warm. Fenris does not ask before slipping into Anders' bed. Anders does not protest. They sleep well, and warmly, and there's no need for either to say that it is just between friends. (They're not friends.)

Cohabitation becomes comfortable, silently.

It's evening in deep winter when Fenris goes into the storage shed and hears something -- a rasp, and a scrabble. Something small, so he doesn't go to fetch his blade. It's full night when Anders comes out to the shed, wondering if Fenris has died or something, and finds the elf crouched in a corner, trying to coax a scrawny adolescent cat to his fingers. Fenris glares over his shoulder at Anders; Anders knows better than to smile. But he goes into the house and comes back, this time with a small saucer of milk, and gives this to Fenris without a word. Fenris tries again: " _Come_ , you fleabitten waste." This time, the cat comes to him.

It only has a few fleas. Anders drives them off with magic. They let it stay in the shed for the first few days, where it earns its keep slaughtering the heretofore-unnoticed legion of mice who've been devouring their food. Fenris continues to refer to the cat as Waste. Anders eventually follows suit, although the cat is bitter and standoffish so he makes a joke about calling it "Fenris Junior" instead. This prompts three days of angry silence, but Fenris eventually gets over it.

After two weeks the cat wriggles in through the shutters of the house, because it's warmer than the shed. Neither of them shoos it away, so it curls up atop the furs of their bed at night and hisses when they attempt to displace it. It has the sense not to spray anywhere inside the house, at least, so they grow inured to its presence. It catches mice inside, too.

It becomes Anders' eternal effort to seduce the cat (which is a tabby, after all). He sits still for hours on days when he really ought to be stitching up a rent in his coat, or churning butter, instead hoping his stillness will coax Waste nearer. It settles in a loaf atop the same bench he's sitting on, fleeing the instant he does more than sniff; this is all the progress he makes for some while.

Fenris makes a perpetual effort to ignore the cat. It follows him everywhere, trotting at his heel like a dog. When he has barely settled, it attempts to rub against his legs. He's blindingly fast on his feet, but somehow the cat is faster.

Only when they are in bed together does it do anything resembling cuddling, probably because they are warm. Fenris tends to curl up facing the door (in case of attackers), with Anders spooning behind him and with his back to the wall (in case of attackers). Once they are relatively still, Waste daintily picks his way across the blankets and furs and curls up in front of Fenris' chest, purring. It is by unspoken agreement that neither of them moves while the cat is sleeping. Anders watches it over Fenris' shoulder, eagerly, eyes lambent. Fenris tries to keep fur out of his nose when it puts its tail over his face.

They sleep closer together, because of the bloody cat.   Things become even more comfortable between them. Anders is a healer; he worries. He does not ask when he starts sliding a hand along Fenris' flank and back each night, checking him over for small injuries garnered during sword-practices or wood-chopping or flour-mill-pushing. Fenris does not protest. Anders notices the distinct elevations of Fenris' heartbeat when he's being touched, however, and the held-wince twitch of his muscles, and the fleeting shivers whenever Anders' fingers graze his scar-markings. It is nothing to Anders to modulate his healing magic in a way that soothes the markings, so that the elf will feel no more pain at the brush of Anders' fingers.

(Justice stirs a little when Anders does this, because this small kindness is a just thing. But the demon has been mostly asleep all this while, half-killed by the undeniable injustice of the war it pushed Anders to start; it goes back to sleep and does not plague him, thank the Maker.)

Fenris goes very still the first time Anders touches him without pain. He says nothing, though, and Anders continues his examination, and afterward they settle. Waste purrs through the night.

The next night Anders notices that Fenris trembles during the examination. Belatedly he understands, but says nothing. He continues the examination for longer than he probably should. For many reasons.

The next night, Fenris reaches for Anders' hand and pulls it to his belly. For many reasons.

It is an unspoken thing that Anders likes to touch. It is an unspoken thing that Fenris longs to be touched. It is an unspoken thing that Hawke touched and loved each of them, once, in turn, and each of them destroyed that love in turn. It is an unspoken thing that Fenris turns over to face Anders, and Anders finds his mouth, and Fenris' hands move down Anders' belly slowly, slowly, slowly. It is an unspoken thing that they are hungry, and they are lonely, and the bloody cat just purrs louder when their touching grows focused and rhythmic.

Neither speaks or cries out, even in orgasm. It's just a lot of loud breathing, first urgent and then relieved.

The silence the next morning is uncomfortable. Anders washes their bedding. Fenris stays out most of the day on a trip into town for supplies. Dinner is stew and bread; Waste attempts to put his face into Fenris' stew and ignores Anders' attempts to offer a tidbit of meat from his own bowl.

"Oh, you wretched _creature_ ," Anders says, in exasperation. He looks up in time to catch Fenris' smile, so he knows he didn't imagine it.

That night Fenris strips as he always does before bed. Anders, already beneath the covers, watches as he always does, surreptitiously. He knows better than to hope. But he sees Fenris lift a flask from one of the satchels he brought back from town, and he looks up to see the elf watching him boldly, a question in his gaze and in his rising, scarred, beautiful cock. Anders answers by lifting the covers with a shaking hand.

Then:

"Please."

"Ah, ah, that is."

"Oh, Void, oh, Maker, bloody _harder_."

"No, not like _ah_ yes like that again, again, again, that is, do not, do not stop, do not stop."

"Please! Oh, demons, please, please, please -- "

"Hush. You need not beg."

They talk rather more than usual in this vein, for several hours.

When they are finally exhausted, Waste curls up in the dip between their entangled legs. They don't even notice.

But the next day, as they eat eggs that Fenris has brought back from town, Waste hops up into Anders' lap, curls up, and begins to purr. Shocked, careful, Anders strokes a hand over his gray-black-gray fur. The cat doesn't move.

Fenris looks up in time to catch Anders' huge grin, and is surprised at how much this pleases him.

They decide to stay once spring comes.

They decide to stay, together.

Some things do not need to be said.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I don't find Fenris attractive except in certain relationships -- with Carver, and then only with tanukiham's iteration of Carver; mmmmaybe with Hawke depending on how s/he is written or played. And I don't find post-Justice Anders attractive at all. (Pre-Justice Anders is hot as fuck.) But I know they're Cypheroftyr's OTP, so CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
> 
> And lo and behold, as I wrote them I found them way more interesting.* I think broken people will always appeal to me on some level. That said, I still don't find the idea of them having sex very titillating, thus no porn. Tried to make it a spicy FTB, at least.
> 
> Highly unlikely there will ever be more of this, sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> * _Now I suppose I'll have to write a Sebastian story next (since he's the DA character I dislike the most) and see if that changes how I view him._


End file.
